


same suit, different tie

by haemophilus



Category: Arrested Development
Genre: AU - Michael is Bisexual, AU - Tracey Was A Man, Assorted Other For Want of a Nail Concepts, Dysfunctional Family, Gen, M/M, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-15 22:26:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15422958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haemophilus/pseuds/haemophilus
Summary: Michael and Tracey get married.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the Blunder Bus Discord for being enablers! Both in the creation of this fic and in encouraging me to be annoying and post it in many parts. I hope you like it!
> 
> This fic has a definite end point but it’s out of ? because I’m not sure how long it will take to get there. Thanks for coming along for the ride, friends.

“There’s still time for us to elope,” murmured Michael as Tracey stirred from his slumber. Tracey yawned, eyes still closed, a smile dancing around his lips. He patted around the bed, searching for Michael’s hand. Michael helped him out by grabbing it and squeezing it tight.

“You really want to look like you’re copying Gob on your wedding day? He’d never let you hear the end of it,” said Tracey.

“I didn’t say we had to elope in Vegas,” said Michael. “We can fly out to somewhere more romantic.”

“You get too airsick. You’d need a day to recover.” Tracey opened one eye. “You might change your mind about me in the meantime.”

Michael let go of Tracey’s hand. He rolled onto his side to look at his fiance. His hair was mussed from sex and sleep. Michael reached over to toy with it; his thumb rested in the shell of Tracey’s ear.

“Never,” said Michael.

Tracey pulled his hand away and kissed his knuckles. He blinked both eyes wide open and gave Michael a playful look.

“I’m sorry, babe. I just can’t take that chance.”


	2. Chapter 2

Lindsay, ever the party planner, had taken it upon herself to organize catering for both brunch and dinner. Apparently, this involved hiring an army of caterers and hanging a large banner on the wall - _Happy Marriage Michael_.

He grabbed a mimosa from a tray of someone who was wandering aimlessly around his mother’s near-empty penthouse. His groomsmen (all hand-picked by his mother and father) waved halfheartedly as he made his way through the small crowd, looking for the couch. He was interrupted by his sister exiting his mother’s bedroom.

Lindsay gave him a grin wider than he’d thought her plastic surgery allowed. She opened her arms and gave him a brief, WASPy hug. He patted her on the back - standard.

“Congratulations,” she said when she pulled away.

“Thanks, Linds,” said Michael. She squeezed his arm.

“You must be so excited,” she said.

“I am,” said Michael. Then, he frowned, realizing _one_ of his groomsmen was missing. “Gob -”

“Isn’t here yet,” said Lindsay. The ‘t’ clicked icily. Her nails dug into Michael’s arm. “It’s okay. Buster has already offered to take over if -” She looked up at him, all of the heinous ‘ifs’ flashing angrily behind her eyes. “Well, he’s offered to take over, anyway.”

As he was seventeen-going-on-twelve, Buster had been excluded from being a groomsman.

 _I can’t have his mind being corrupted by strippers,_  his mother had said. _I already found him last week ogling the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition. He’ll grow up to be a rapist if we don’t keep that sort of thing away from him._

“Is he here?” said Michael. Then, he felt heavy breathing on his neck and a hand on his shoulder.

“I sure am!” said Buster. “Hey, brother!”

Michael turned around to see his little brother who, in the last two years, had grown until he towered over everyone but Gob. Buster immediately smothered him with a hug.

“Hey, Busty,” he said, muffled by Buster’s chest.

“I’m so happy for you,” said Buster. He pulled away, and took a sip from a juice box. “Tracey is a very lucky lady.”

“Man,” corrected Michael. “You’ve met him several times.”

Buster leaned in so his mouth was close to Michael’s ear.

“Oh, I know,” he said. “But mother’s still in denial. She said she’s not coming out of her room unless we all pretend you’re straight at brunch.”

“She must’ve brought a lot of mimosas in there before I got here, huh?” said Michael.

Buster straightened his glasses. “Well, technically _I_ brought them to her.”

Michael grabbed a mimosa off of the tray of a wandering waiter and handed it to Buster. He pointed to his mom’s bedroom door.

“Tell her I’m here and that no way in hell am I pretending that Tracey is a woman,” he said.

“Do I have to swear?” said Buster. “Mom doesn’t really like it when I use the h-word.”

Michael clapped him on the shoulder.

“Heck is fine.”


	3. Chapter 3

It was another hour and four mimosas later when his mother finally exited her room. Her gait was wobbly but her eyes, as ever, were sharp. She looked around the room, surveying how the party was going. In the process, her eyes accidentally locked with Michael’s. Her lips grew thin; she looked away and headed towards the caterer who was cutting ham in the far corner of the room.

Buster, deep into his another juicebox, surprised him from behind again. 

“Can you believe it? Mom finally came out of her room,” he said. “Now the party’s  _ really _ getting started.”

As if on cue, their mother gave ham-cutting-caterer a cold look and began to scold him for some perceived flaw in his ham-cutting abilities.

“Well, it’s not really a party until one of the caterers gets fired, is it?”

“She’s under a lot of stress,” said Buster, patting him on the shoulder.

“ _ She’s _ under stress? It’s  _ my _ wedding,” said Michael.

“I don’t think she likes weddings very much,” said Buster. “I don’t know if you know this, but her marriage to dad was because Gob was sort of an oopsie.”

Michael craned his neck to look up at Buster.

“I got the gist through their arguments, yeah.”

“Her arguments with dad or her arguments with Gob?” asked Buster.

“Pick one,” said Michael.

Buster giggled. “She does have a pretty sharp tongue. Very sassy.”

“That’s one word for it,” said Michael.

Click, click, click, click! The familiar sound of his mother’s gait made the hair on the back of Michael’s neck stand on end. 

“Here she is! We were just talking about you,” said Buster.

“Can you believe the catering at this party?” said Lucille, ploughing past Buster’s greeting. “I told Lindsay to hire the best money can buy and what do I get? An ex-convict cutting cold ham with a saw. Where does she think we are, West Virginia in 1600? I swear to god, Boston has knocked any sense she had right out of her head.”

“I think it’s nice,” said Michael.

Lucille laughed. “Says the man who wouldn’t spend more than $3000 on a tuxedo.”

She sat down next to Michael on the couch. “How  _ are _ you?”

“As good as can be considering my mother’s calling my husband a woman and my best man is missing,” said Michael.

“Your father made a collect call from a gas station near the harbor. Gob was taking a dip in the bay.” She took a sip of Michael’s drink. “They’ll be back in a little while.”

“Please tell me he didn’t swim while wearing his tuxedo,” said Michael, rubbing his temples.

“He has more than one,” said Lucille. 

Michael sighed. “Did he say  _ why _ he was swimming in the bay?”

“Something to do with being very drunk,” said Lucille, her lips pursed with distaste. “I told him to pull it together over the phone. The least he can do on your wedding day is pretend he didn’t black out last night. I mean, it’s bad enough that you’re marrying -”

“The love of my life?” said Michael. Lucille gave him a scathing look.

“Don’t push it. You’re lucky the gay dollar counts for anything. If the worth of Bluth Company Stock hadn’t increased when we sold ourselves as a  _ progressive _ company, you’d be fired and written out of the inheritance.”

She finished off Michael’s mimosa, and flagged down a waiter to give her another one.

“And who, exactly, would help run the business if I were fired?” said Michael. 

Lucille shrugged. “We’d figure something out with Gob.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he’ll be great at planning housing developments in Atlantis,” said Michael.

His mother touched his shoulder and stood up.

“It’s been great having this chat,” she said. “I just can’t wait for the ceremony.”

Michael stood up as well. He air-kissed both of her cheeks.

“Me too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point I’m just writing banter hoping other people crack up at whatever cracks me up.


	4. Chapter 4

“Unbelievable,” said Lindsay as she rolled a lint roller up and down Michael’s pants. “Only  _ you _ could manage to get cat hair on a $3000 tuxedo.”

“Tracey’s cat gets into everything,” said Michael. Lindsay lifted up his arm to remove hair from the side of his suit.

“That’s what I mean. Having a cat is just so. . .domestic,” she said.

“I’m not following,” said Michael.

“You just never had any crazy years,” said Lindsay, moving to his chest. “We all sort of thought when you came out as bi that you’d become kind of a party animal but - well, look at you. Married at twenty.”

She put down the lint brush and picked up his bow tie from where it lay on the bed. Lindsay wrapped it around his neck.

“Being bisexual doesn’t mean -”

“Shh. You don’t have to argue. I know you’re boring,” said Lindsay. She pulled his bow tie tight.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” said Michael.

Lindsay hummed in response and patted his cheek. “But you should.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know these chapters are short but I hope you guys enjoy them anyway. I'm gradually probing this 'verse - it's an exciting time!


End file.
